


Moon [Let Me Pretend]

by darkotter



Series: A Series of Fragments and Nothing More [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkotter/pseuds/darkotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow the world will end. But if the Moon never goes down, then tomorrow will never come. And then Allen can continue to pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moon [Let Me Pretend]

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet written after listening to 'Northern Downpour' by Panic! At the Disco.

_Hey Moon, please don't go down._ I don't want tomorrow to come. I want to stay here. I want to pretend. The world  _could—would—will_ end tomorrow, so let me stay here and pretend that everything is alright.  _So please, stay up for me_ .

He is beside me. Even without looking, I  _feel—know—sense_ he is not asleep. Maybe he understands. I think he will. I believe he will. But I do not look at him. I stare out of the window, at the  _Moon_ as it shines down.

_Hey Moon, don't you leave me._ It's light is comforting. It wraps me in silver, and if I just  _pretend—imagine—dream_ maybe tomorrow will not come. And I will stay here. Away from the world. With him.

I feel the bed dip and know he has shifted. Onto his side, with an elbow propping his head up. Sheets of dark hair fall as he moves and I have to turn to look at him. A hand brushes my left, that cursed thing. If it disappeared I would be able to pretend. That it was all a  _Dream_ .

“It's late.”

“Yes.”

We lie in silence.  _Please. Sun, why don't you rest?_ If the sun doesn't come up, then the day can't start. If the day can't start, then the world can't end. It's simple, isn't it? I know the world will end. Tomorrow. Maybe before lunch. Maybe after. But it will end.

“You should sleep.” Kanda shifts again. I look at him. The silver moonlight has wrapped him up as well. As if agreeing that it will try. It will prolong the night as long as it can. _Try harder, Moon. I don't want this night to end._ I can pretend. I can dream. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

“This might—” I say, rolling onto my side to look at him more clearly. He is beautiful. I always thought so. Ever since we met, ever since he denied my handshake, because I am _Cursed_. He has since gotten used to that. _Don't leave me. “_ —be the last night. Why would I sleep?”

Kanda is gentle when we are alone. Has anyone else seen this side of him?

_Hey Moon, stay up. Please. Just stay up. Don't go. Because if you do, the World will end_ . I reach out and touch his cheek. “It's going to end.”

“I know.”

We are able to get away without talking much. I guess it's right. We are similar. We understand. I am not afraid to die. I am afraid to lose him. He touches my cheek; my scar. His thumb is rough, but his touch his gentle and I close my eyes for a moment and  _Pretend_ .

“I don't want to sleep,” I say. “I want the moon to stay in the sky. I want the sun to stay down.”

He looks at me; I recognize that look. I've said something strange again, something he finds mildly amusing or just bizarre. “When the sun rises, this will end.” Understanding dawns on his beautiful features.

“Yes.”

“I don't want to sleep.”

_Please. Don't leave yet. Get bigger. Moon. Don't leave. You have always been here, always haunted me. So comfort me instead. When the sun replaces you, it will start._ I am tired of this war. I am tired of the death. The anguish. Tomorrow it will be done, once and for all, one way or another. Tomorrow, the world will end.

“Yes,” he says. I roll onto my back; I feel his eyes but let my gaze drift back to the sky. To the moon. He touches my cheek once more.

“Tomorrow. You will leave,” I say. I am tired of being left. I am tired of being loved for something that is not me. And tomorrow, when the sun comes up, we will have to be soldiers once again. Not lovers. He does not know my pathetic thoughts; my tired mind; my exhausted body. I am so worn down, but I will not sleep.

“I'll be by your side,” Kanda says. His voice is low; a hushed whisper in my ear.

_Hey Moon. Let me pretend just a little bit longer. Let me forget about this war. Forget about the demons, the fighting, the death. Let me stay here. With him._ He moves over me. I turn my gaze again to him.

“The world will end tomorrow,” he says. His lips press against mine. _I don't want to lose this. I don't want to forget this_. “So let me indulge once again.” The _Moon_ is watching and I don't mind. It does not judge.

It feels normal. It feels right. It feels okay. I nod.  _Dear Moon, thank you for staying up for me._ And I let him  _take—sanction—savor_ it. And I  _drown—fall—drift_ .

And I pray. I wish. I dream. I pretend. That tomorrow is just another day. That the war is over and done with. I know, through all the sighs and the gasps, the heated skin and the fevered beating of our hearts, that we both want the same thing. I want him to be the last thing I taste. And I understand he feels the same. And together we sink into the faerie tale of pointless hopes proved by the  _Moon_ .


End file.
